A friend recently suggested, hearing about my time with my mom in my hometown, “You’re on a pilgrimage!” If I wasn’t on one before she said that, I am now. You can’t go home without remembering. And when going home takes you to where your faith was birthed, remembering means pilgrimage.

Can you be assured of your salvation?

We were talking the other day in Bible study about how we know someone is saved. I left with a renewed resolve to hear people’s salvation testimonies and to share mine. By the way, this Bible Study is the same one I was a part of almost 40 years ago. Getting to be in it again is a part of my pilgrimage.

How I came to know I needed a Savior

I thought about the question of salvation over the weekend, and after I left church today, I decided to drive by the church where I was baptized. Daddy was the music director at Sunnyside Baptist Church and C.L. Lindsay was the pastor. I was five years old. My only memories of it all are (1) I was baptized in a pink-and-white seersucker dress, (2) my feet left the stool and floated to the top of the water, and the pastor had to set me upright again, and (3) I really wanted to be able to participate in the Lord’s Supper.

My mom has assured me that I spoke at length with the pastor. She says, it seemed clear that I understood I was a sinner and that Jesus died for my sins, that I repented of my sin, and asked Jesus to be my Savior. For years, I accepted her assurance.

But when I picture those conversations, it’s in another time, another place, and with another pastor. In my memory, C.L. Lindsay is Abraham Lincoln (without the beard). The picture in my head of my salvation meeting involves Pastor Affolter (more of a John Kennedy type) in his office in Des Moines, Iowa. If you know either man, this is the way I remember them. Please don’t disillusion me.

I do know I loved Jesus, and I wanted to please him. Surely that meant I was saved, didn’t it? No one talked much about the indwelling Holy Spirit in our circles, so I really couldn’t tell you whether I was aware of his presence.

We were living in Iowa in the early seventies when I caught a wave of what I now know as the Jesus Revolution. We sang the songs and we adopted the lingo. My friends and I responded by making our moms buy us fancy notebook paper so we could doodle Jesus’ name along with the word “luv” and one-way arrows. For hours. Daily. I guess maybe Jesus was my first crush.

Conviction of sin hits

We moved back to Texas, and sometime in Junior High (Middle School for my younger readers), my Mama and Papa Rogers took me to a James Robinson Crusade out at Memorial Stadium (possible future pilgrimage visit). I don’t know if it was the sermon or the twenty-plus verses of Just As I Am, but before I knew it, the counselor down on the field was praying with me and handing me a card with the word “rededication of life” checked off.

Growth in Christ begins

Over the next decade, I had some incredible teachers, mentors, and disciplers. I grew in my understanding and in my walk with Jesus. He became my Lord as well as my Savior. I went on mission trips. I learned to share my faith. This is where FBC of Wichita Falls and Abilene, Grace Church, BSU at Hardin-Simmons, and simply doing life in the body of Christ came in. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything. Some of the people from that time of my life are still my heroes in the faith, my nearest and dearest, the people who “get me” in a way no one else does.

But, was my baptism real?

It wasn’t until I was a young adult that the significance of my church’s teaching about “Believer’s Baptism” hit me. I was a Southern Baptist, and we believe that baptism is a step of obedience and testimony that we take as new believers in Christ. It doesn’t save me from my sins, but it tells the world that “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Col. 2:20, ESV).

I was in an evangelism class and had to write out my testimony. I realized I wasn’t sure whether I was saved at 5 or at 12 years old. On top of that, an evangelist had come to our church and led us in the song, “It was on a __-day, Somebody touched me.” Everyone was supposed to stand up on the day of the week they were saved. We started with Monday, and climaxed with a joyful Sunday when the majority of people stood triumphantly to their feet. But I didn’t know what day it was that I was saved, so I remained seated. I was super-relieved when, almost as an afterthought, they added a verse that declared, “It was on a SOMEday!” Whew!

All of that got me thinking that I didn’t remember the condition of my heart at five years old. If I hadn’t been saved until I was a young teen, there was a chance I had never been baptized as a believer.

This seemed to matter a lot at the time. So I was re-baptized. Just in case.

I know my salvation is real

Now at the ripe old age of almost 62, I’m not sure whether all that really matters to God. I understand the importance of testimony, and I don’t regret sharing mine through baptism at 5 and again at 23. But mostly, I rejoice that somewhere in my youth or childhood, Jesus saved me. And I know that I know that I know that is real. He’s changed me forever. I may not have recognized how desperate I was for him way back then. But I do now. He’s my everything.

So why does pilgrimage matter?

Pilgrimage matters because when we remember where we’ve been, we rejoice in all that God has done to bring us where we are. It spurs us forward into the future that God has for us. If we’ve lost sight of him, remembering draws us back.

Remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.

Isaiah 46:9 (ESV)

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands.

Psalm 143:5 (ESV)

And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Luke 22:19 (ESV)

“Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children.”

Deuteronomy 4:9 (ESV)

Sing the Songs that Lift Your Eyes to Jesus

At the time of this writing, Grace Church in Wichita Falls, TX (yet another pilgrimage stop for me) is in a sermon series on the Psalms of Ascent. These psalms are a collection of fifteen songs that the people of Israel sang each time they made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. They reminded them who their God was and who they were in him. They turned their eyes and set their hearts on worship. Psalms 120-134 together are a great tool to use if you decide to go on your own pilgrimage.

The sermon series from Grace’s leadership, On the Road to Worship, is wonderful and available through their podcast. I also loved my studies of Eugene Peterson’s A Long Obedience in the Same Direction and Beth Moore’s Stepping Up, both of which take a deep dive into these psalms.

I don’t mean to make this a commercial. But I’m excited about what God is showing me while I’m spending some time going back to the beginning. I’m excited about this pilgrimage I’m on, and the tools God’s using to teach me through it.

Come Alongside

I’d love to hear from you. What’s your salvation story? Has God taken you on a pilgrimage or a journey of remembering? Do you think you might want to go on one soon? Please share in the comments! I’d also love to answer any questions my story may have raised for you. You can also share those in the comments or contact me privately. Until then, let’s keep remembering what God has done!

Traveling in Grace,

Christi